And now, poor thing, she was grateful to the verge of tears for his one
word of blessing that seemed to wipe out all the rest. She wished that
when her hour came, she might hear him say again 'God bless you,' and
then die.
She let him go, and sat down amongst her furs, with a deep sigh of
satisfaction.
'I've made up my mind what to do,' she said, almost as if she were
talking to herself. 'I'm tired of it all, Tom, and I'm losing my good
looks and my figure. If this goes on, I shall soon be ridiculous. You
would not like your mother to be ridiculous, would you?' 'Certainly not!' 'No, my angel! Be good if you can; if you can't be good, be bad; but
never be ridiculous! Oh, never, never! I could not bear that. So I
shall leave the stage, quietly, without any farewell. I shall cancel my
engagements when I have finished singing here. The doctors will swear
to anything. What are they for? I was never ill in my life, but they
shall say I am ill now. What is it that every one has nowadays--the
appendix? I will have the appendix. The doctors shall swear that I have
it well. So I shall leave the stage with a good reason, and pay no
forfeit for cancelling the contracts. That is business. Then I will be
a nun.' 'Eh?' ejaculated Lushington, staring at her.
'Yes, I will be a nun,' continued Madame Bonanni unmoved. 'I will go
into religion. When your mother is a nun, my child, I presume that the
Church will protect her, and no one will dare to say anything against
her. Then you can marry or not, as you please, but you will no longer
be ashamed of your mother! I shall be a blue nun with a white bonnet
and a black veil, and I shall call myself Sister Juliet, because that
has been my great part, and the name will remind me of old times. Don't
you think "Sister Juliet" sounds very well? And dark blue is becoming
to me--I always said so.' 'Yes--yes,' answered Lushington in an uncertain tone and biting his
lip.
'I cannot do more than that for you, my treasure,' said his mother, a
touch of real human sadness in her voice. 'You will not take the
miserable money--but perhaps you will take the sacrifice, if I shut
myself up in a convent and wear a hair shirt, and feed sick babies, and
eat cabbage. How could any one say a word against me then? And you will
be happy, Tom. That is all I ask.' 'I shall not be happy, if you make yourself miserable, mother,' said
Lushington, smiling.